


The hardest choice

by vangoghandsleep



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts, Marauders' Era, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:09:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vangoghandsleep/pseuds/vangoghandsleep
Summary: After the death of Sirius Black, Hermione comes up with a plan to prevent Voldemort from killing anybody, ever, by going back in time to stop Voldemort, before his reign begins.





	1. The death of Sirius Black

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first story that I have had the confidence to publish, and thus it may not be totally perfect. If you notice any inaccuracies, or if you just want to comment on my story, I'd be so happy if you gave me a nudge.  
> That being said, I feel I have to clarify that I do not own any of the characters or even the idea for a story where Hermione travels back in time. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

In the infirmary of a boarding school by the coast of Scotland, on an uncomfortably stiff mattress, lay a teenage girl, with bushy brown hair, intertwined  with twigs, dirt and leaves. She was sleeping soundly, despite her unkempt state. In the bed next to her slept a boy, who seemed to be fifteen years, or so. He, too, had dirt in his hair and face. They both looked more tired than their 15 years should allow, like they had been in battle. Seeing as the two teens were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, this was, of course, true. 

They, with the help of four of their friends, had been fighting Lord Voldemort’s death eaters only hours earlier, in a dispute over a prophecy hidden deep within the Ministry of Magic. Hermione, Harry and their friends had barely gotten out of it alive. 

They had all arrived back at the school in the middle of the night, dripping blood on the marble floors of the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, had almost fainted at the sight of them all. She had patched them up as well as could be done, and given them sleeping potions that would ensure they got the rest they sorely needed.

 

Several days passed before the teenagers woke from their slumber. Hermione woke to a strip of warm golden light, seeping in between the curtains opposite her bed.

«Oh dear, you're awake!» the voice of Mrs. Weasley came from somewhere to Hermione's right. The voice was muffled, as if they were separated by a solid wall. With a lot of effort, Hermione moved her head to the side, and saw a plump woman sitting in a chair a few feet away, next to a bed occupied by an unconscious red-headed boy. «How are you feeling, Hermione?» The woman smiled at her, as Hermione tried to raise her body into a sitting position, but to no use. She was simply too tired to lift her own weight. 

«Don’t bother with that, sweetheart. Just try and rest a little,» Mrs. Weasley made her way over to Hermione’s bedside. Hermione gave up her feeble attempts at moving, and lay her head back on her pillow. «I’m good, thanks. How are the others? I don’t remember anything after we came inside» She rubbed her eyes, still heavy with sleep. 

The older woman smiled sadly and said: «You fainted, that’s why you can’t remember anything. The others are fine, The nurse fixed nearly all the broken bones, and the only problem now are Ron’s scars. She says they’ll be there for the rest of his life, poor boy.» Mrs. Weasley looked over at her still sleeping son, with tears gleaming in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away. 

Hermione suddenly remembered a large tank filled with water and something that looked like brains. They had attacked Ron when he tried to touch them. She tried to shake the image of Ron screaming with pain out of her head. «And Harry? How’s Harry?» She asked, just to stop herself from thinking more about Ron. «He’s fine, dear. His wounds have healed, and he’s woken up a few times. Poppy had to give him more of the sleeping potion, because he wouldn't calm down when he was awake. He’s very angry about Sirius’ death.» 

 

It felt as if a brick had hit Hermione’s stomach. She’d quite forgotten that Sirius had died that night.

Sirius, who had spent twelve years in prison for the murders of his friends, and who had later been hunted around the wizarding world. He’d kept himself hidden for several years, first in a cave, and then in his childhood home, a house he hated more than anything. Hermione had spend last Christmas in that house, with Sirius, as well as Harry and the Weasley clan. Sirius had wandered around the house, mumbling to himself whenever he thought no-one was there to listen. She still remembered the last time they spoke. Hermione suddenly got an urge to cry for Sirius. Mrs. Weasley noticed this, and reached for a cup of steaming liquid from the table by the bead. «Drink this, darling. You’ll feel much better if you sleep a little more.»

Hermione took the cup from her hands, and drank every last drop of the warm liquid. She had barely given the cup back to the older woman when she felt warm and fuzzy all over, and she thought that Mrs. Weasley was right; a few hours of sleep would do her good.

She was gone before her head hit her pillow

 

_Hermione stepped up the stairs silently, to avoid being noticed  by anyone. When she reached the top, she took to the left, down a dimly lit hallway, with photos plastered along the walls. As it was unlikely Sirius enjoyed looking at pictures of the family who had put him on the streets, she supposed these had been put up with a permanent binding spell._

_«Kreacher, is that you?» Sirius’ shouted._

_Hermione froze in her step. Should she leave?  She hesitated for a moment, but decided to proceed. «It’s me, Hermione. Can I come in?» She peeked inside the room. The furniture had all been removed, except for a few moldy cushions, on which Sirius Black sat. «Oh, it’s you. Yes, come on in, if you want to spend your evening talking to a drunk old man.» Sirius chuckled to himself. She stepped inside the room. «You aren’t, you know?» she looked at the man sitting on the floor. «What? drunk? Last time I checked I was.» Sirius put up a sad smile. «Well, yes. You are probably drunk. But you aren't old.» Hermione stated, as she sat down on a free cushion «Why are you drinking anyways? Alcohol is basically poison.» She asked with a frown. «You’re hostile towards alcohol, I’d quite forgotten.» Sirius’ grey eyes were immensely focused on hers, as if he tried to find another person within her. Hermione looked puzzled. «How did you know that? I’ve never told you-»_

 

_«This was my mother’s room, did you know that?» He cut her off. She nodded yes._

_«When I was little, I used to come in here at Christmas morning and sing carols for them to wake them up.» He smiled. «That was before they tried to enforce their prejudice on me.» He cleared. «Back then they were quite nice, actually.»_

_This came as a shock to Hermione. «How drunk are you, Sirius?» She asked with a laugh. «How come?» He didn’t seem to realize what he'd just told her. He just kept picking at a scab on his wrist. Hermione rolled her eyes. «You talked nice about your parents.» At this, he raised a bushy eyebrow, and attempted to look stern. «You take that back! I wouldn't do such a heinous thing.» He faked a yelling tone at Hermione, who laughed. She looked at the bottle in Sirius’  hand in disgust. «Wouldn’t you like a glass to drink from, Sirius? Or perhaps you'd like to come downstairs and drink with everybody else?» He shook his head firmly. «No, thanks. I’d only ruin the festivities for them,» he looked her in the eye again, as if he wanted to say something more. «I wonder if you remember me, from before? You looked different then, I didn’t recognize your hair when I saw you…» He mumbled_

_Hermione was baffled. What on earth was he talking about? «What do you mean, Sirius?»_

 

_Silence, followed by Sirius clearing his throat._

_«I miss them. my friends, I mean. I miss them so much it hurts to think of. And when you both look so much like them...» his whisper came to a halt. He looked anxiously at Hermione, as if he'd given away a secret, but she hadn't noticed. «When Harry’s here,» he corrected himself with a blush, «I see them. Not just in his eyes and hair and face, but like ghosts I see lily and James watching over him. I saw them downstairs at dinner, thats why I left. I couldn't bear to watch them anymore.»_

_Sirius wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Hermione pretended not to notice. He sat the bottle down on the floor, and stood up rather suddenly. «I think I’ll go check on Buckbeak. You should probably go back downstairs, they'll be worrying about you by now» His voice was groggy, as if he’d just woken up. Hermione got to her feet, as well. She watched Sirius turn for the door, walk a few feet, and then turn back. Their eyes met. His eyes looked scared, but focused. «You really are an extraordinary witch, Hermione Granger.»  «I had a friend like you, once. Her name was Maia. She was brilliant, like you. Excelled at everything she did. Looked just like you, too. I suppose you don't remember her yet. I hope you do soon.»_

_With that, Sirius Black left Hermione to try and decode his message. Surely he’d given her enough information to figure it out?_


	2. Summer holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione struggles with recent events, as her parents object to her returning to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I apologize for the delay, as I was originally planning on posting a chapter every day. I decided to take my time on this story, and not rush it. I don't think Hermione will travel back in time before chapter 3 or 4, and I know some people will be bugged that it'll take so long, but I promise it will be worth the wait!
> 
> Note:   
> \- I couldn't find any suggestion as to where Hermione's parents lived, so I picked a village two hours from London, called Ramsgate.  
> \- Most fanfics from Hermione's perspective rarely involve her interacting with her parents (nor do the books), so I wanted mine to portray how they felt about her almost being done off by Voldemort twice a year.

Hermione had no real recollection of her actions, or even her whereabouts, during the next week. She knew that Headmaster Dumbledore had been to visit them all in the hospital wing, letting them know they had been excused from their exams that year, and that they could all go home, even if there were still several weeks left of the semester. She knew there had been a memorial for Sirius, and that they had all attended. Luna had later told her that Harry put up a big protest the day of the memorial, claiming his godfather wasn't really dead, and that they were all fools for believing Dumbledore’s lie.

She knew her parents had arrived at Hogwarts, three days from the fight with Voldemort. They had collected her things and her cat, and brought her back home to Ramsgate, where she had been since. The first week after she got home, she didn't even leave her room. Her mother had brought food for her, though she hadn't eaten much. She mostly sat in a chair by the window of her room, petting Crookshanks, looking out at the people walking by, and the children playing in the street. She envied them, in their ignorance. They weren't aware that Lord Voldemort was back, nor did they know that war was soon upon them.

Ten days after her return, Hermione’s father decided to try and talk with her, about what had happened. Upon entering her room, he found her sleeping in a chair, with a book of nursery rhymes in her lap. She must have been reading them to calm herself down, again. He sat down on the wooden floor, close enough to the chair to pull the book away from her hands, and put it gently on the floor. She smiled as she woke from her, hopefully, peaceful sleep.  For a few moments it seemed as if she were fine again, as if her encounter with that horrible man had no effect on her. Of course, this wasn't the case. Her father knew she was still very much affected by what had happened, and that she could never be same again. She stretched, and rubbed sleep from her eyes. «Good morning, darling. How’d you sleep?» he put up his best smile, and tried to keep his voice calming. He’d read somewhere that trauma victims should be talked to in a calming voice, yet not condescending. «I slept… Good, actually.» she looked puzzled at her revelation. She did look a little better, he thought. «That’s good, sweetie,» he looked calculating at her. «Do you feel up to talking to your mother and I, today?»

This seemed to put a damper on her good spirits, as her entire body seemed to deflate a little. «I guess… Just please don't ask too much about what happened that night. You know everything by now, and it makes me antsy to talk about.» her eyes looked pleading up at his. Her father nodded, and stroked her bushy hair. «All right, if you promise to come downstairs and eat breakfast with us,» he agreed, as he hoisted himself from the floor. He stopped, lingering by the door for a moment before closing the it behind him.

Hermione tried to remember the dream she had. It had been a good one, without death eaters, crying friends, and dead godparents. She strained her mind, and thought she could see herself, together with Harry, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny, relaxing by the great lake at Hogwarts. The boys and Ginny had been skipping rocks, as Luna had tried to get the giant squid’s attention by singing to it. Hermione had been sitting on a rock, with her short feet dangling just over the water. She’d been so happy, not worrying about school or Voldemort or if her friends were in immediate danger. 

Oh; what she would give to feel that outside of her dreams, she thought as she stood up from the chair she’d been sleeping in.

She hadn't been out of her room since she came home, thus not seeing the point in showering or changing her clothes much. She felt grimy all over, and decided that she may feel a little better if she washed herself before she went to talk with her parents.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione sat on a sofa in the living room, her mother by her side. She had showered and dressed in clean clothes, and she had to admit that it made all the difference to how she felt. She was drinking tea, and attempting to eat a slice of bread. Her parents kept a watchful eye on her, as if they were expecting her to burst out in tears at any moment. Realizing that her parents were waiting for her to initiate the conversation, Hermione cleared her voice, before turning towards her father, «What was it you wanted to talk about?», she tried to smile, but it felt oddly stiff and unnatural. There was a clank as her mother’s teacup hit the saucer a little to hard. «You told her already? I thought we agreed to wait!» She looked sternly at Mr. Granger, who put up an apologetic face. «Hermione seemed better this morning! I thought it was best to get it over with,» he had now put his own cup down. Hermione stopped them both from arguing further. «It doesn't matter that he told me without you, mum. I’m here now, and ready to talk about whatever you want.» 

«Very well, we’ll talk. But I am disappointed in your father.» Her mother took Hermione’s hand in her own, and stroked it gently. «I don’t quite know how to say this, so ill just jump into it,» the older woman’s eyes flickered between her daughter and husband, before she spoke again. «I don't want you to go back to that school next term-» Hermione’s eyes widened. «Mother! You can’t be serious!» She put up quite a wild protest, and it took several attempts before Mrs. Granger could cut through the strings of angry words and desperate pleas. «Please just _listen_ to me!» she shouted, and Hermione finally came to an abrupt stop. Mrs. Granger began to talk again, this time in a scarily calm voice. 

«I got a message, by owl, in the middle of the night, that my only daughter lay unconscious in a hospital wing, after being attacked by Nazi wizards. I was _terrified._ Because of all the spells hiding the castle from non-magic eyes, we had to wait two entire days before we could see you, and when we arrived the nurse kept talking about all the dark spells that had hit you, and for a few days I though you were going to die in that bed, Hermione. Do you understand that?»  

Hermione hadn’t understood this before. She’d been too wrapped up in her own pain to give a second thought to how her parents must be feeling in the midst of it all. She suddenly felt very bad for not paying more attention to them. «I’m sorry you had to think that, mum, I really am. But I didn’t die! I’m here, aren't I?» Hermione’s arm waved around the room as she spoke, «And I have to go back to Hogwarts, mum! I belong there, and all my friends are there. I can write to you, every week if you want me to, but you cant stop me  going back!» She crossed her arms over her chest, and positively fumed with anger and fear. The thought of not going back to Hogwarts made her terrified. What would she do with her life if she didn’t finish her education, if she didn’t live in the world of magic? 

As the two Granger women couldn't see eye to eye on the matter, Mr. Granger proposed they write to the headmaster at Hogwarts. After another round of heated arguments, they eventually agreed that, if Albus Dumbledore came to their home, and assured them Hermione would be safe, she would be allowed to return to Hogwarts the following year. Hermione ran to her room, and began drafting the letter to her headmaster. It took her most of the morning to write a letter that, without being long or whining, explained their need to talk to him as soon as possible.  When she was content with her letter, she began to call out for Harry’s snowy white owl, Hedwig, only to remember she was in all likelihood with her owner, in Surrey. She didn’t know how to send a letter to Hogwarts if not by owl, so she decided to do the next best thing: mail the letter to Ron Weasley, with a note asking him to owl it to Dumbledore. 


	3. The decision to leave home.

Three days later, professor Dumbledore arrived the Granger house by portkey. He was flanked my professor McGonagall and an unknown woman, wearing a large, bright red fur coat and a purple hat. The woman, to Hermione’s surprise, turned out to be Alastor Moody in disguise. Their arrival came as a shock to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who still had some trouble understanding the mechanism of magical transportation. The three wizards stayed for the better part of an hour, persuading Hermione’s parents to let her go back to Hogwarts. After some resistance, they caved. The professors promised to send regular updates on Hermione’s well-being, and to ensure she was taken care of and kept safe. Just as they were about to leave, professor McGonagall asked Hermione to speak privately. Hermione, a bit puzzled, led the way to the kitchen, and waited anxiously for what her teacher wanted to talk with her about.

When she entered the kitchen, McGonagall sat down on one of the chairs, and urged Hermione to do the same. «Miss Granger,» the old witch began, «I’m sure you know that Mr. Potter is in a very rough place right now. Upon the death of his Godfather, he seems to have lost the will to do anything besides sleep. We had him moved to the Weasley-clan this afternoon, so that Mrs. Weasley can keep an eye on him.» 

Hermione nodded in understanding. She knew all of this, of course. Ginny had been sending her letters every other day. Hermione suspected that she, too, had been struggling, and kept writing letters just to have something to do. 

«Very well,» McGonagall continued, apparently eager to be done with this part of the conversation. «Albus is not overly pleased with me for suggesting to him what I am about to suggest to you, but I feel I have no choice but to proceed. If you do not want to do what I’m asking of you, I will not be the least disappointed or angry.»

At this Hermione gave a stare. What could be so important and possibly dangerous that Dumbledore didn’t want her to know about it, much less participate in it? Nonetheless, her curiosity got the better of her, and she gave sign for McGonagall to continue.

«A few selected members of The Order, will sometime during this year attempt to travel back in time exactly twenty-one years, in an attempt to stop He Who Must Not Be Named, before he gains power in the wizarding world. The members who will go on this mission will be people who either weren't alive twenty-one years ago, or people from countries outside the United Kingdom. This is, of course, done to prevent any knots in time, as they are traveling back many more years than is allowed, or even considered safe. For example, Harry will not be able to go back in time, not just because he looks too much like his father, but because he will become an important person that everybody will know and pay attention to, later on,» as Hermione gave sign she understood the logic of this, McGonagall continued. «Now, you will of course play a big part in the history of wizard kind, but you are not as easily recognized in the public eye. It is for this reason that I want you, Hermione, to go back in time with the order members.»

Hermione’s chest fort of deflated at this request. For some obscure reason, professor McGonagall though her qualified to go back in time more than twenty years, to stop Voldemort. 

«I’m sorry, professor, I don’t understand this. How on earth could I be of use to these order members? And who are they? Will I be able to come back to my family? And what about Harry and Ron?» Of the thousand questions in her head, Hermione could only formulate a few. This couldn't be, surely there were others who could go in her place. What was so special about her?

McGonagall smiled. «You are, without a trace of doubt, the most qualified for this mission. Just think about it! You were not alive back then, you have more knowledge of the first wizarding war than anyone your age, and you already know most there is to know about time-travel. Besides, if you choose to accept this assignment, your mission will not be to kill The Dark Lord, it will be something else entirely. You would appear as a student of Hogwarts, keeping the order members informed of any rumors concerning Tom Riddle amongst the other students. You would attempt to befriend and recruit future members of The Order.» McGonagall spoke with passion in her voice. She was truly sure that this would work. Hermione bit her lip, confused. This was all too much to comprehend. 

McGonagall stood up suddenly, as Dumbledore entered the small kitchen. 

«Minerva,» he said, «are you quite finished? We must go now. I know you and Miss Granger here have much to talk about, in regard to the secret mission, but could this be done by owl? Something has come up, and you are needed at the headquarters.» The old wizarding legend looked tired, and a bit stressed. The standard side-effects of war, Hermione thought. 

Professor McGonagall turned back to Hermione. «I do apologize for leaving like this, but I will send you an owl with a list of names, how the mission will be conducted, and the specific tasks you will  be entrusted with. Now, remember, you do not have to accept, and if you choose to accept, the mission is not scheduled to begin for another few months, and so you will have plenty of time to prepare.»

Hermione couldn't come up with an answer other than; «Yes, well, I’ll read your owl, and come back to you with any questions.» 

She walked the professors to the door. Just as they had said their good—byes to Hermione’s parents, McGonagall turned to Hermione again, and whispered in a rush; «Don’t tell your parents just yet.» 

Before Hermione could respond, or even blink, all three of the wizards were gone.

 

The next weeks went by in a rush. Hermione corresponded with professor McGonagall a few times. She learned that she already knew a handful of the people chosen for this mission, amongst them Bill Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks. She also learned that, since time travel in itself was extremely risky, they would all depart on different dates. The idea was that the leader of the operation, an American wizard whom Hermione had never met, would travel back first by time-turner. Once settled, he would hide the time turner in the wall of an apartment in Diagon alley, owned but not used in the seventies by Kingsley Shacklebolt, where, if the time-turner lay untouched, Tonks would retrieve it more than twenty years later. She would then, accompanied by Bill Weasley and Hermione, go back in time, and hide the time turner in the exact same spot. This would go on until all of the fifteen wizards involved were back in the seventies. The idea was that they would all travel back in groups of two and three. The wall would then be used to send updates of the mission forward in time, to the remaining members of the Order.

Hermione thought the idea to be brilliant. They would be able to communicate with the others, with Harry and Ron and the Order. The conversations would be very one-sided, but they would be able to give them regular updates of how they were doing. 

McGonagall had told Hermione several times, that she would most likely not be able to go forward in time again. As there were no recordings of time travel of this magnitude, the professor did not know how Hermione’s time-travel would affect her original childhood, nor any of the people around her.

She would never see her parents again, that much was sure.

 

As July approached, Hermione had another visit from McGonagall. This time she was flanked by professor Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth. He was in on the mission, and would go back in time with the American wizard, whom Hermione now knew to be named Howard Wolfe. Howard Wolfe was a direct descendant of Wolfe, one of the four great wand makers in North America.

Aberforth seemed exited at the prospect of going back in time. In this life, he had always been over-shadowed by his brother, so Hermione suspected he would use this opportunity to become his own person.

«Hello, Miss Granger,» Aberforth greeted her as he entered the house. Her parents were both at work, so it was safe to talk freely. She offered her guests tea, and they began talking. At first, it was light talk. Hermione asked how Harry was doing, and when she could visit him, then they talked about how the ministry was dealing with the whole ordeal with Voldemort, before they slowly crept their way to the topic of the time-travel. Howard Wolfe and Dumbledore had decided that the mission was to be called «The Field Trip.»

McGonagall wanted to know if Hermione had thought any more of joining The Field Trip. Hermione replied that she had thought of nothing else since the proposal was made. Aberforth grunted that she «should make up her mind quickly,» since the date for the trip was fast approaching. 

«We’ve decided to set the date of departure for Sunday the 1st of August. This gives you a full month of acclimation before you begin at Hogwarts. During the holidays you’ll live in Kingsley’s apartment with Tonks, Aberforth, Wolfe and a witch named Amelia Thornwood.» McGonagall gave Hermione a blueprint of an apartment far too large to be located in Diagon alley. 

«This place is huge! Has it been magically enlarged?» Hermione asked. She suddenly thought of the Weasley’s old car. Mr. Weasley had tinkered with it over the years, making it much more roomy than it appeared at first glance. 

Her professor smirked. «You have a good eye, Hermione. Mr. Wolfe leaves tomorrow, and he will ensure that the apartment is large enough for all of its future inhabitants. Everything is ready, now. But the question still remains: will you, Hermione, be one of the inhabitants of Diagon alley number two hundred and forty-six?»

Hermione had dreaded this question. She had thought of it every single day since it was first asked her. She had written lists, with arguments both for and against leaving. She had, of course, come to a final conclusion. She would go back in time, leaving all her friends and family behind, in order to save the world. This was a both a noble and a foolish quest.  
«I’ve decided to join The Field Trip. I’m certain.» Hermione felt sure as she spoke. She felt like she had a purpose, and that she would, in time, fulfill it. 

McGonagall nodded, and smiled, while Aberforth looked vexed.

«I still think you’re too young to go, Miss Granger. I think you should leave it for somebody else. It isn't right, for you to throw away a perfectly good life like that,» he mumbled into his teacup. This didn’t have any effect on her decision, and she had a mind to let him know it.

«Very well, you two! You’ll have most of the seventies to argue about this, but now is not the time,» professor McGonagall snapped. Hermione and Aberforth shut up.

«Hermione, during your stay in the past you will need to come up with a new persona. Is there any name you would be comfortable switching to?»  
She would have to change her name, that would be a challenge. Was there any name she wanted to use for herself? Yes, there was one name. One name she had heard a few times before, spoken with love, as if any person with that particular name would be impossible not to like.

«I think I’d want to be called Maia.»

 

 

In the end, Hermione found it best not to tell her parents in person. She knew that what she had decided to do would crush them. They would be absolutely devastated, and surely object to her traveling back in time, and this could only lead to a huge argument, where she might end up saying things she didn’t mean to. 

Instead, she wrote them a letter, explaining everything about the mission, and promising she would have McGonagall forward any updates she left in the wall of the apartment in the past. The letter turned out quite long in the end, but Hermione felt it had to be. She sealed it, and put it in her magically enlarged beaded purse. Hermione hadn’t been allowed to bring Crookshanks with her, as McGonagall meant the travel through time would harm the feline. The cat was to be taken care of by Ron’s brother, Charlie, instead. Hermione had arranged with Aberforth and McGonagall to meet them both at the Weasley residence. She told her parents that she wanted to visit her friends for the remainder of the vacation. It all worked out quite nice, as her parents were traveling to France for the last three weeks of the summer.

Arriving upon her last stop in this time, Hermione found Aberforth Dumbledore in the Weasley’s living room. He was pacing back and forth between the sofa and the arm chair, muttering softly to himself. He seemed to notice her presence, but his body language made it clear he would like to be left alone. After a moment Hermione recognized the mutters to be lyrics from a song. She had never heard it before, and the song had a sad feel to it, almost eerie. Careful not to disturb Aberforth, she set down the caged cat, and let him out. The cat didn’t seem altogether displeased with his current situation, which was a relief for Hermione.

When Aberforth had sung the odd song to its finish, he sat down, gazing at Hermione. 

«What is it, Aberforth?» The question came across a little more accusing than she meant it to.

«I’m trying to understand why you’re joining us. Why my brother is allowing you to join. You’re only a child, for crying out loud!»

Hermione took great offense in being called a child. «At nineteen I am actually an adult! And i’m going on this mission to help Harry. If we prevent Voldemort from murdering Lily and James, he could grow up like a normal child. All of my friends could grow up with their parents, without having to worry about dying. Is that not a good enough reason for you?» At this he laughed. «Oh, it’s a noble reason, Miss Granger. It just isn’t a particularly  realistic one.» 

Baffled, Hermione retreated to the kitchen. Was Aberforth right? Were her hopes unrealistic? 

Her trail of  increasingly depressing thoughts were soon interrupted by Molly Weasley, ushering an entire boat load of people into the small kitchen. Hermione recognized both Ron and Ginny, as well as the older brothers Charlie, Bill and Percy. In the back were the Weasley twins, Fred and George. Ginny gave Hermione a quick hug. «Are you all right? Professor McGonagall’s told us.» The red-head looked worried. Hermione shrugged, «I’m okay. Where’s Harry?» 

Ginny’s body language suggested she wasn't looking forward to this question. She crossed her arms over her chest, and sighed. «He’s sleeping. He does that a lot. I wouldn’t wake him now, if I were you,» Ginny added, seeing the look on Hermione’s face. «Well, can I talk to him later?» Hermione was eager to see that her friend was all right. Ginny looked somewhat pleased that Hermione didn’t run up and interrupt Harry’s slumber, and loosened up a bit. «Sure you can, but you have to say hi to mum first.» 

Mrs. Weasley took this as her cue to give Hermione a tight hug. « Are you hungry, dear? That doesn't really matter, as I am prepared to force you to eat something! Come on, Bill and Percy are making eggs, and you can cook the bacon!» 

Annoyed she would be kept from Harry for a while, but at the same time glad to be given a task that would push away her thoughts, Hermione began helping with lunch. Mrs. Weasley hexed a large knife next to her, and it was now chopping bacon at a dangerous speed. Ginny set the table, and in another part of the room, Fred and George Weasley were dueling with teaspoons.

 

During a lunch filled with the usual noise, laughter and mess the Weasley kids generated,  Ginny, Ron and Mrs. Weasley told Hermione everything about how Harry was doing, and how they were, slowly, getting him to come out of his shell. He had almost accepted Sirius’ death now, and felt comfortable talking to Ron about it. Harry had been informed of The Field Trip, and Ron told Hermione he was less than pleased about it. «After Dumbledore told him you were leaving he kept slamming the doors, and yelling profanities at us for over an hour before we could talk to him again.He’s angry he can’t go himself,» Ron explained, with a half eaten toast in his hand, «and now, when we bring it up to him, his face just closes off, and he changes the subject as soon as possible. Perhaps he’d calm down if you talked to him at dinner» he finished. 

Hermione suggested they fetch Harry now, as she was eager to see him, and tell him she would try and keep Sirius alive when she arrived in the seventies, but her proposal was quickly shut down by Mrs. Weasley. «He needs his rest!», she had proclaimed, as she flicked her wand, making all the plates and pots and pans shoot to the sink, where they started washing themselves. «Ginny, will you help Hermione settle into your room? I had your father add an extra mattress for her.» Mrs. Weasley shot a smile at her only daughter, who nodded and got up from her seat to show Hermione to her room. 

When Hermione was settled, Ginny closed the door leading to the stairwell, and began the cross-examination of «why, when, and where» Hermione was leaving her behind in this time, to live under a false identity in the past. As Hermione had been prepared for this, she quickly launched into the explanation. 

«I still don’t understand why you have to go! Can’t Dumbledore find an adult to go in your place?»  Ginny said in confusion, a half hour later. Hermione had no answer to this. In fact, she had been asking herself the very same question. «I guess he thinks I’ll be able to blend into the student body at Hogwarts in the past. And if they have to use and adult, they’ll be forced to drink polyjuice potion several times a day, and that could be risky…» she trained off, thinking about the time she, herself, had drunk poly juice potion. The potion had been made with just one wrong ingredient, and she had spent several weeks in the infirmary with the face and tail of a cat.

«I suppose you're right,» Ginny agreed. «Okay, now that I know everything, do you want to say hi to Harry?» the red-head shot a glance at the door before continuing, «mum’s crazy for letting him stay in Ron’s room all the time.»


End file.
